


Character Bleed

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, Numb3rs, Numb3rs RPS
Genre: Character Bleed, M/M, Roleplay, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 16:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: And god knows it’s not just Charlie, Rob’s attraction to David. It’s David himself, because Rob can’t get enough of this kid, this insolent, foul-mouthed, energetic fuck who keeps him on his toes and makes him feel fifteen years younger, who jerks him off between scenes and makes him breathless from laughter when they’ve got shoots that go too late and Rob would rather be anywhere but on set. David isn’t Charlie, not by a long shot, and Rob doesn’t want him to be. But there’s something about DavidasCharlie, and Rob’s realizing, just now, three beers in and head a little fuzzy from the joint that’s still smoking in his hand, that the voice in his head that whispersgod you’re gorgeousandI want you in my bedwhen he sees David as Charlie is not—it’s not entirely his.





	Character Bleed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vyrenrolar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vyrenrolar/gifts).



> Huge thanks to [Jenna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaLee/pseuds/JennaLee) as always for looking this over for me!
> 
> This is for [vyrenrolar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vyrenrolar), who messaged me on tumblr after reading my latest Eppescest fic with the incredibly encouraging line "you Know those actors fucked at least once." My friend, I think so too.

It’s been a long day of filming and Rob’s just about ready to pack it in and go home when David knocks on the door of his trailer, hands in his pockets, ingratiating smile on his face. Rob sighs inwardly because he’s fucking exhausted but he knows that smile, knows whatever David wants, he’s not going to take no for an answer.

“I got beers and weed back at my place, you wanna come chill?”

The thing is, David’s place is a lot closer than home.

The thing is, a few beers and a joint do sound like the perfect solution to the tension in his neck, the ache in his feet, the tightness of his muscles from holding himself so stiff. Don’s a coiled spring, tightly wound, and Rob knows his posture helps the character come across on camera but he’ll be damned if it doesn’t hurt at the end of the day.

The thing is, in the year or so that they’ve been working together, Rob has never been able to deny this kid anything.

“Yeah, you want me to just follow you?”

David shrugs, a guileless shine in his bright brown eyes that doesn’t fool Rob for a second. “I can bring you back tomorrow if you wanna just. Stay the night.”

There it is.

They’ve fooled around quite a few times, only on set; nothing too intense, just sloppy handjobs after shoot-outs or fight scenes, adrenaline rushing even though it’s nothing but a simulated threat. They haven’t even kissed, although Rob would swear he’d felt David’s lips on his neck the last time, both of them muffling their panting on each other’s shoulders to keep quiet. Rob had felt David’s breath hot through the cotton of his shirt and then he’d sworn, he’d _sworn_ , there’d been a brush of lips, the quick burn of stubble, at the base of his neck before David had pulled away and tucked himself back in.

Then they’d been called back to set and Rob couldn’t ask, didn’t know what he _would_ ask— _did you kiss me? (_ a stupid question, if the answer was no) _Will you kiss me? (_ a terrifying question, if the answer was no) _What are we doing? (_ never, ever the question to ask)—so he put it out of his mind, even though he found himself touching his neck so often for the rest of the day Diane finally asked him if something was wrong.

David makes a small, inquiring noise in the back of his throat, and it brings Rob back to the present, the late LA sun highlighting the curls in David’s hair.

Rob coughs. “Yeah, alright, lemme just—gimme a sec.”

David grins, bright and satisfied, and rocks back on his heels. “I’ll be in the car.”

* * *

They finish off half the six-pack in record time, each of them downing their first beer in a matter of gulps before eagerly cracking open their seconds. Midway through, David brings out the baggie of weed and starts rolling a joint, and somehow it’s no time at all before they’re finishing their third beer each, the empties lined up on the coffee table like a row of soldiers.

It was good beer and it’s good weed that David’s got, and Rob’s feeling looser than he has in weeks. He takes a long drag off the joint, holds the smoke for as long as his lungs will allow, then exhales slowly, watching the plume of smoke escape from his mouth. Leaning back into the soft leather of David’s couch, he lets his eyes flutter shut, his mouth stretching into a smile. “Buddy, how’d you know exactly what I needed?”

There’s a quick intake of breath next to him, a gasp that seems out of place in the relaxed atmosphere of the room. When Rob forces his eyes open, rolls his head to look at David, he finds himself instead face to face with—

With Charlie.

Gone are the loose, languid lines of David’s body, one arm thrown carelessly over his head onto the arm of the couch, right leg kicked up onto his left knee, wide and open. Instead, Rob’s got Charlie in front of him now, Charlie in David’s baggy jeans and rumpled t-shirt, limbs drawn tightly together, fingers tapping out nervous energy onto his thighs. When David looks at him, Rob sees Charlie’s openness and the raw, desperate desire to help that he’s faced with whenever Don and Charlie are working together.

Except—

Except as he studies David’s face he realizes it’s not a desire to help. It’s just desire, pure and simple, and it’s looking out at him from Charlie’s face, and for a long, confusing moment Rob doesn’t understand what’s gotten David acting like this all of a sudden.

Then he realizes what he said, and it hits him like a punch in the gut.

He’s heard about the stuff a certain subset of fans have been writing, stuff that had Cheryl and Nick changing things around after season one wrapped. Adding more characters, taking that tight, intense focus off Don and Charlie’s relationship to spread the attention around just a little bit more. Upping the ante with Amita, bringing in Robin. Somebody for Rob to stare soulfully at instead of his own brother.

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. It’s hard to get out of Don’s head sometimes—or to get Don out of his head, Rob’s not sure how it works—and the thing is, Rob is attracted to David no matter what costume he’s wearing, or who he’s supposed to be. So yeah, sometimes, he’ll be trying to come back to himself after a long day, and he’ll see David, still in Charlie’s outfit for the shoot they just wrapped, and there’ll be a spark. A flame, low in his belly.

And god knows it’s not just Charlie, Rob’s attraction to David. It’s David himself, because Rob can’t get enough of this kid, this insolent, foul-mouthed, energetic fuck who keeps him on his toes and makes him feel fifteen years younger, who jerks him off between scenes and makes him breathless from laughter when they’ve got shoots that go too late and Rob would rather be anywhere but on set. David isn’t Charlie, not by a long shot, and Rob doesn’t want him to be. But there’s something about David _as_ Charlie, and Rob’s realizing, just now, three beers in and head a little fuzzy from the joint that’s still smoking in his hand, that the voice in his head that whispers _god you’re gorgeous_ and _I want you in my bed_ when he sees David as Charlie is not—it’s not entirely his.

 

“Jesus,” he swears, rubbing a hand over his mouth. He can feel his spine straightening almost on its own, like he’s got no control over it, the same way it does when he walks onto set. His shoulders, too, tighten involuntarily, and he takes a moment to mourn the looseness he’d just achieved. “We’re doing this?”

David, or maybe Charlie, or maybe both—smiles, the ‘your move’ evident in the raise of his eyebrows. Rob could back out of this, David’s expression is saying, and they could just go back to smoking and probably end up fooling around and Rob could fall asleep on the couch and that would be that. No harm, no foul.

Or they could address this _thing_ , this tension that’s been ramping up on camera as much as it has off.

It’s a no-brainer, really. It’s fucked, way more than a little sick, but god if that doesn’t make it that much hotter.

Rob sets the joint down in the ashtray and twists his body so he’s facing Da—Ch—god, so he’s facing his _brother_ , the flickers of _wrong, wrong, so wrong_ only feeding the heat that’s licking at him, and places a hand on Charlie’s, stilling his twitchy movements and making him jump. “Hey, buddy,” he starts, tentatively, “what’s up?”

“Donnie,” Charlie breathes, erasing all doubt, and there’s so much in that single word that it’s like Don’s been shot all over again.

And it’s a damn good thing he’d put the joint down because he doesn’t even get a second to reply before Charlie’s climbing in his lap, mouth slack and eyes needy, his ass a welcome soft weight on the tops of Don’s thighs. Having Charlie here like this, it’s like everything’s suddenly right with the world, and Don curves one hand around Charlie’s neck and brings him down for a kiss that feels like coming home.

“Missed you,” Charlie mumbles into his mouth, snaking one hand into Don’s hair, fingernails scratching the sensitive skin of his scalp. Don moans, and he feels more than hears Charlie’s huff of laughter, warm burst of air against his lips, on his cheek. “Missed you so much, Donnie,” he says again, and Don’s cock pulses at the nickname. He’s never going to be able to hear Charlie say his name again without getting hard. He’ll worry about it later.

“I’m here, kiddo,” he says, pulling back to look at Charlie, smiling at the whimper the lack of contact pulls from Charlie’s kiss-rough lips. Charlie’s eyes open and he affects a pout that’s got Don remembering old memories, memories that the tiny part of Rob’s brain that still belongs to him knows never happened, memories that feel as real as anything as Don combs his fingers through Charlie’s curls. “Not going anywhere, I promise.”

They trade kisses like Rob and David have never done, languid and needy by turns, lips and tongues coming together like the movements have a lifetime of familiarity behind them. It’s no time at all before Don’s pulling Charlie’s shirt off, throwing it carelessly on the floor, his hands returning to the soft skin of Charlie’s sides, his stomach, his chest. Don’s fingers are restless, tracing senseless patterns that have Charlie squirming on his lap, grinding and whimpering into Don’s mouth, desperate noises that Don swallows up like they’re sustenance.

Don's unbuckling Charlie's belt when Charlie leans back, and for a moment Don's worried he's somehow gone too far. But Charlie shakes his head at the apparent question in Don's eyes, grabs his hand in reassurance.

“Bedroom,” Charlie whispers, leaning back until he’s gotten his footing on the floor. He tugs at Don’s hand, pulling Don up with him, then turns and pulls him eagerly toward the bedroom at the end of the hall, door invitingly ajar. When Don doesn’t move, Charlie turns back to him, eyes beseechingly wide, and says “Don, please, baby, I need you.”

The incongruity of that jolts Don into action, and he snorts as he crowds against Charlie, pushing him toward the bedroom. “Who’re you calling ‘baby’, kid? Huh, baby brother?”

Charlie full-on shudders in his arms, stopping dead in the middle of the hallway, and Don doesn’t bother to bite back the groan that rumbles out of him, so deep it’s like it’s coming from his toes. He grins, chuckles low and dirty into Charlie’s ear, presses a wet kiss against the side of his neck, teeth grazing lightly at the thin skin. “Oh, you like that, don’t you, Chuck? You like knowing it’s your big brother who’s gonna spread you open, taste you everywhere, make you scream?”

Charlie’s nearly incoherent in his arms, a trembling flushed mess leaning back on Don for balance like he can’t even keep himself up. Don wraps one arm around his skinny waist and the other around his chest, heaving with unsteady breaths, and walks them both to the bedroom, never ceasing his attack on Charlie’s neck. It’s just kisses and nips, nothing hard enough to bruise, even though Don wants nothing more than to suck a mark into Charlie’s tan skin, brand him as Don’s for everyone to see.

He finishes unbuckling Charlie's belt and moves on to the fly of his jeans, pausing for a moment to cup the bulge straining against the denim. Charlie hisses through his teeth, bucking into the touch, but Don doesn't give him more than a tease before backing off again.

“Get that ass on the bed, sweetheart,” he says when Charlie's pants hit the floor, buckle of the belt clunking metallic against the hardwood. He gives one last scrape of teeth over the soft patch of skin behind Charlie’s ear before he’s pulling back and smacking Charlie’s boxer-clad ass, making him stumble and nearly trip on the fabric still pooled at his feet.

He recovers quickly, though, and the leap he makes onto the high, unmade bed looks almost graceful. Arranging himself on top of the piles of blankets, hands and knees with his round ass in the air, Charlie makes a pretty picture, one made even more enticing when he looks over his shoulder at Don still standing in the doorway, eyes bedroom-dark and his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You just gonna watch, bro?” he asks, voice low and teasing.

Don runs a hand through his hair with a laugh. “Not a chance, kid,” he responds, making quick work of his clothes as he moves towards the bed, until he’s standing in just his boxer-briefs. It’s two quick movements, up and over, and then he’s got his front pressed against the curve of Charlie’s back, his baby brother’s bare skin fever-hot against his own. Don rubs his erection against Charlie’s crack and Charlie moans and shudders up against him, legs spreading, an open invitation if ever Don’s seen one.

“Donnie,” Charlie mumbles, voice muffled by the pillow he’s got his face pressed against. “Come on, fuck—”

“Yeah?” Don tugs Charlie’s boxers down until they’re sitting under his ass, sucks on a finger to get it wet and trails it down Charlie’s crack, presses lightly against his hole and watches Charlie writhe beneath him. “This what you want?”

When Charlie doesn’t answer beyond a series of high-pitched noises Don bends down, spreads the globes of his ass even further apart, and begins to lick, working the ring of muscle with the tip of his tongue until he’s fucking Charlie with it. “What about that, baby boy?” he asks when he comes up for air, wiping the spit off his chin with one hand while he keeps Charlie spread with the other. “You like that?”

“Hnnngh,” Charlie responds, eloquently, and Don can’t help but laugh.

“Listen to the genius now.”

He dips back down and continues licking and sucking, getting Charlie’s hole wet and sloppy, feeling the vibrations of his moans with his face pressed against Charlie’s body. “Tell me what you want, buddy,” Don says the next time he takes a break, when Charlie’s a melted puddle beneath him, loose and whimpering, boneless and needy. Don slips two fingers into Charlie’s ass, the slide easy as anything with how wet he is, and that spurs Charlie into action, hips rising up and back to meet the thrusts of Don’s hand.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Charlie chokes out, “Don, Donnie, quit teasing, fuck me like—like you used to—”

Don groans, images of a younger Charlie, gangly and bright-eyed, climbing into his bed in the dark of night, the hot press of bodies under blankets to muffle the sounds they’d make, to keep the noise from travelling, hands over panting mouths to keep from getting caught by their parents, just down the hall. The fear, the sheer _wrongness_ making everything that much hotter, that much better.

“Yeah,” Don manages. “Yeah, Charlie, god. Gimme—”

Charlie reaches over to the bedside table, digs in the drawer for a moment and tosses back a condom and a bottle of lube, then re-situates himself on his hands and knees, curve of his back putting his ass on perfect display, Don’s for the taking. Charlie’s slick and loose already but Don drizzles more lube down his crack, watching the liquid drip down and wet his balls, drawn tight already, before falling onto the sheets, darkening the fabric. For a moment he does nothing, just spreads Charlie open with both thumbs and watches him clench and squirm, but when Charlie lets out an irritated huff Don decides he’s been playing around long enough.

He yanks his underwear down and rolls the condom on, slicks his dick up and pumps himself a few times, reveling in the relief of finally touching himself. But he doesn’t last long because Charlie’s bucking back against him, wordlessly wanting, and Don knows the touch of his own hand is going to be nothing compared to sinking into the sweet heat of Charlie’s body.

“You ready?” he asks, tip of his dick pressed against Charlie’s hole.

“I’ve been ready,” Charlie snaps back, and the chuckle Don lets out at his annoyance morphs into a long, slow groan as he pushes his way into his brother, in and in and _in_ until he’s completely flush against the curve of Charlie’s ass.

“God, look at the way you take me,” he marvels, hands gripping tight at Charlie’s squirming, bony hips. “Look at you, christ.” He pulls out slow, feeling Charlie grip him every inch of the way, trying to keep him inside. “You like that? You like taking your big brother’s dick like that?”

It’s filthy porno shit but it _works_ , Charlie arching his back and moaning like he’s getting paid for it, tight hole clenching hard around the tip of Don’s cock. “Lemme—shit, Donnie, wanna see you, lemme ride you.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Don says with feeling, a wave of dizzy wanting washing over him. “Jesus, yeah, okay.”

He pulls out and they switch places in a tangle of limbs, Don flat on his back on the sheets that hold the lingering warmth of Charlie’s body. Above him, looking down with something like reverence in his eyes, Charlie is a backlit vision of curls and soft, tanned skin, and Don’s mouth goes dry.

“Fuck,” he whispers again. “Not gonna last long with you looking at me like that,” he warns, and Charlie grins as he sinks down onto Don, mouth dropping open on a gasp.

“I thought you old guys were supposed to have stamina,” Charlie counters, sliding his hands onto Don’s chest for balance, elegant fingers tangling in Don’s chest hair. He starts a slow rhythm, a gentle slide that’s got heat building steady at the base of Don’s spine, and it feels so damn good but Don’s not about to let him get away with a comment like that.

“Who you calling old? Huh, kid?” Don lifts his knees to cradle Charlie and wraps his hands around Charlie’s thighs, and begins to thrust hard and fast, biting back a laugh at the groan that sounds like it’s been forced out of Charlie’s chest. “This feel old to you, buddy?”

“Don, god, don’t stop, just like that—” he’s bouncing on Don’s dick so hard his own cock is slapping against his belly with every thrust, leaving a shiny wet spot on his skin, and Don wants to rub his thumb over it, lick off the taste of him, but he’s afraid if he lets go of Charlie’s trembling thighs Charlie’s just gonna fall over, and he doesn’t want that.

“Get yourself off, baby,” Don says, his FBI command voice creeping in, and Charlie’s got his hand around his dick before the words are even out of Don’s mouth. Don’s so close, can feel the tension about to snap, but he’ll be damned if he’s gonna come before Charlie does. “Yeah, stroke yourself for me, you look so good, Chuck, feel so good around me.”

“Don, Donnie, shit, I’m gonna—gonna come, keep going, keep fucking me, please, please,” and then Charlie’s coming, all over Don’s chest, thick ropes of come that splatter hot and white against Don’s skin. It’s two more hard thrusts and then Don’s coming too, vision going blurry around the edges.

“Jesus,” Charlie mutters when his breathing’s steadied enough to talk again. He lifts himself off Don’s softening dick, legs wobbly, before collapsing next to Don on the bed. Wordlessly, he grabs the box of tissues off the nightstand and offers it to Don, who takes it with shaky hands.

Don cleans off his chest and pulls the condom off, tying it up and throwing everything in the garbage can by the bed. He settles back down, chest heaving, coming down from the dizzy high of the best sex he’s had in a long, long time.

It’s quiet for a few moments, the soft sound of their breathing and the traffic rushing by outside, and Rob can feel himself slowly shaking himself free from Don’s hold on his brain. It’s a weird, in-between state, and he’s not sure how he feels about it when—

“Perverted old man,” David says, breaking the mood entirely. He rolls over onto his side, gazing at Rob through sleepy eyes, curls plastered to his head on one side, looking delicious and utterly fucked-out. There’s a grin playing on his lips that’s absolutely one hundred percent Krumholtz, and Rob can’t help the laugh he barks out, sharp and incredulous.

“Again with the old bullshit. You’re the one who started it, you little brat.”

“Mmm,” David agrees, not a trace of shame in his voice. Then—

“Stay?” he asks, shit-eating grin turning stupidly soft, and Rob knows his face is a mirror of it. He’s comfortable and warm and David feels so fucking good, and he wants to just say yes, but—

“Is work gonna be weird from now on?”

David hums, considering. “Just don’t let Judd find out, we’d never hear the end of it.” He gives a little half-shrug. “Otherwise, we’re professionals, right?”

“I mean, I am.”

David smacks him with a pillow.

“Brat,” Rob repeats, affectionately, and David laughs. “Yeah, alright, buddy. I’ll stay.”

There’s a self-satisfied huff as David curls his warm body around Rob, legs intertwining beneath the tangled sheets, and the kiss that he presses against Rob’s bare shoulder is obvious enough that this time, Rob doesn’t have to ask.

**Author's Note:**

> BTW I'm sure nobody WOULD share this with the actors but uhhhh it's archive-locked just in case.


End file.
